


a fool's hope

by anddirtyrain



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 01:36:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5187206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anddirtyrain/pseuds/anddirtyrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If he's alive, she makes herself say it. If. Because hope is the most dangerous thing she’s known.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a fool's hope

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing for TWD fandom. I love Maggie&Glenn so I thought I'd try my hand at writing for them. :) Hope you like it.

“If he’s alive-”

“If?”

“He told Michonne he would’ve found some way to signal us if he got out.”  _If_ , she makes herself say it, because hope is the most dangerous thing she’s known.

“If he’s alive, he’s hurt or trapped, maybe taken.” She doesn’t want to think of it, him waiting on her, his time running out. “If he’s alive, he needs my help. That’s why I’m doing this.” They need each other, they trust each other. Some days, before Alexandria, that was the only truth she could still hold on to. Her daddy, her whole family was gone, there was nowhere to go to and no water to drink but Glenn was there. And she had him and he had her.

So she needs to be sure. She won’t let them write his name on a wall and give up on him. He wouldn’t give up on her.

But hope chokes her, makes her stomach twist and ache worse than hunger ever could. It makes her head pound and the back of her eyes burn, and she doesn’t think she’s taken a full breath ever since she saw him last.

“And if he’s dead, I don’t want to be waitin' on him.” She needs to know, needs to _see_ him,because she would. She’d wait on him for the rest of her goddamn life if there was even a chance he was alive. She _needs_ to know _._ But by God she only wants to see his face again.

 _Ifs_  keep her alive. Maggie forces herself to say them, because –and that’s the pain of it- the not knowing is what’s going to be what kills her. Not the walkers,  and not the birth. But the hope that he’s alive out there, waiting for her. Or the fact that maybe he’s dead, that by now walkers will have ripped him apart and there’ll be nothing left for her to find.

She swallows down the knot in her throat and keeps on trudging through the shallow water. It reeks down here, rotten and humid, and she’s glad the morning sickness hasn’t hit her yet. She’s not sure if it will, since her daddy always said she was such an easy pregnancy; that raising her was the hard part.

She shouldn’t think about her daddy, not now. He’s one of the things she keeps locked up, stored away in a part of herself she doesn’t touch very often, not without Glenn’s arms around her and a drink in her hand (she can’t have either now). He’s there somewhere, along with Beth’s singing and her moms’ gentle smiles, both of them.

If her daddy were alive –but he’s not, she saw his head cut off from his body- he would be happy for them. If Beth were here –but she’s not, she saw the hole on the back of her head- she’d be so excited for her. Her sister had been the one who always wanted a baby, who played with dolls when she was little and picked names since the age of fourteen. Maggie had had cigarettes in her hands at that age, while Beth had hope and songs, and maybe that’s why she’s the one that’s here now, baby in her belly and dread in her gut.

Nothing as good as her sister thrives around here anymore. And maybe that’s why Glenn’s gone, too, why he might not be coming back. 

(She has a chance, she knows. To get this one good thing. Their baby. Someone who’s untouched from all the shit going around them. A baby who’s part of her and part of Glenn and better than the both of them.  _If_  things go right.  _If_  Glenn’s alive. _If_.

Maggie doesn’t need the morning sickness, the not knowing how it will all turn out makes her ill already.)  

It’s on her to find out. It’s her husband, the father of her child. It’s her responsibility. Her weight to carry.

She turns to Aaron, who’s sweating as much as she is from the asphyxiating atmosphere of the sewers. “None of this is your fault. You don’t need to do this.”

“People are dead. I was a part of that. And I have to live with that,” he tells her. He keeps on walking, and she follows after him. 

It’s his choice too, to be down here. And Maggie’s grateful. She is starting to remember how it feels to be lonely.


End file.
